


what could you possibly?

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-18
Updated: 2007-08-18
Packaged: 2018-09-06 10:12:14
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8746165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Series of drabbles, I guess?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: Something a little different here, but I figured since [Miss Cinnamon](http://samdean.archive.nu/viewuser.php?action=favauth&uid=756) (my wonderful!beta) loved it, I'd give it a shot. Reviews keep me breathing! -holds breath-  


* * *

_What could you possibly see in me?_

_Is my soul hung out to dry?_

_I think my dysfunctional family has shaped it throughout my life._

 

Dean slipped from the bed quietly and grabbed his jeans from the floor, not bothering to look for his boxers. Tonight, it was the only thing he could stand to leave behind, his shirt smelt too strongly of Sammy, sweat and come for him to ever think of parting with it.

 

He pulled on his jeans and reached for said shirt, carefully sliding it out from beneath his sleeping brother. Stopping just long enough to brush a stray hair from Sam’s forehead. He felt his stomach sink, his heart kicking angrily in his chest.

 

There were other options, it reminded him. He didn’t have to leave. He could stay, wrapped up in Sam’s arms, and find that Sammy smile staring back at him in the morning with wide, puppy dog eyes that made his heart kick in an entirely different way.

 

Leaving was Dean’s choice, the only way he knew to protect himself anymore. The only thing he seemed to ever have any control over when it came to Sam, because he sure as hell couldn’t stop himself from coming back. As hard as he tried, Sam always drew him in. By phone call or memory, it was all the same.

 

Sensory overload that kicked his ass until he gave in and came to California; Palo Alto and the school that had stolen Dean’s heart away.

 

He let his fingers trail down Sam’s cheek and along his jaw. Baby soft skin sending shock waves through him. Baby soft skin he’d long since memorized in every way-touch, smell, taste. Sweet like Sammy, bitter like their goodbyes and often their hellos.

 

It was only towards the middle of Dean’s visits that things seemed to click, and Sam gave in like Dean had. Falling into Dean’s caresses and kisses with much protest, but always caving in the end. He rubbed his thumb over Sam’s cherry red mouth, still swollen from fevered kisses.

 

Dean snatched his hand back, feeling his resolve weakening. He couldn’t stand to stick around anymore than he could to leave. He was caught between _wanting_ to believe in Sam’s whispered confessions, and _knowing_ that there was nothing worth loving in him.

 

Bending down, he pressed a lingering kiss to Sam’s lips, tongue darting out for one last taste, and grabbed the rest of his things before he could change his mind again.

 

He’d be back, he always came back.

 

xXx

 

_What could you possibly like in me?_

_Do you like my ability to bend?_

_I think my fear of intimacy has shaped the time we spend._

 

Dean resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably, Sam’s chocolate eyes staring curiously back at him. There was a different sort of charge in the air tonight and it wasn’t only Dean that felt it. Still, Sam sat silently, watching, wondering, but never asking.

 

“How are things at Stanford, Sammy?” Dean asked, slouching down in his usual seat and careful to keep a safe distance between himself and Sam.

 

He was still shook up over his last visit and how close he’d come to staying. Even in sleep Sam had Dean wrapped around his finger-awake he was much too dangerous. Dean shouldn’t even be here now, but it’d been over a week and the taste of Sam was starting to rule his life again.

 

“You really want to hear about that?” Sam said, raising a brow at Dean’s unusual conversation starter. For the past three years Dean had been coming to Sam like this, this same bar, same seats. Coming in and immediately kissing Sam as if his life depended on it, no mention of Stanford or either of their lives, because that was what kept things surreal for Dean. If Sam wasn’t involved in his every day life, then Dean had the luxury of pretending like what they did on those visits was nothing more than built up frustrations and passion.

 

Physical and nothing more.

 

They’d have a beer and try not to scare the other away or start a fight, until Dean was comfortable enough to head back to Sam’s. Sometimes the Impala, if Dean was getting too desperate for him. It served as a reminder of all the things Sammy wouldn’t have with Dean out on the road, in the life they’d never wanted. Then for days after the car would smell like Sam, like their lovemaking. Giving Dean a little added strength in staying away from Sam.

 

Dean shrugged at Sam‘s question. No. He never wanted to talk about Stanford, didn’t ever want to see the place again, but he was afraid to touch Sam. To risk giving in now, after all the effort he’d put into keeping a safe amount of distance between them. Always holding back the, whimpered _‘I love you’s’_ when they did touch.

 

Sam leaned forward, cupping Dean’s cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked, worriedly. “You seem upset.”

 

Dean stared wordlessly at his brother, his breath caught in his chest. He could feel Sam’s breath coming in warm puffs against his face, soft lips parted, _begging_ for Dean to give in. He watched as Sam’s brow furrowed, the concern on his face stirring something deep within Dean that he couldn’t afford to believe in.

 

Like he couldn’t afford to believe in Sam, or this.

 

He pulled back, pushing Sam’s hand from his face. “I’m fine,” Dean lied. “Let’s just get out of here, Sam.” No _Sammy_ , not now.

 

Sam’s face fell, the hope Dean had seen shining in Sam’s eyes the moment he’d got there disappearing with his first betrayal. He felt a pang of guilt, sweet words on the tip of his tongue-anything to soothe the sting he knew Sam was feeling. Then he remembered the way it had felt to look down on Sam’s content face and swollen lips, the way his heart had kicked painfully, urging him to stay, and the sweet words turned to sweet lies.

 

Dean delivered his patented smirk, letting his hands slide up Sam’s shirt, and over the smooth expanse of his stomach. He felt the tremor run through Sam, the involuntary twitch of muscles as skin met skin, and the power shift he needed to find the strength to kiss Sam without breaking. He could do this, could make Sam happy now and in the end. As long as he didn’t get too close, Sam would be fine.

 

One day he’d be able to turn away.

 

xXx

 

_No it's not you, it's me._

_And it's not us, it's them._

_And it's not her, it's just the way she moves you?_

_And she kisses harder than me, oh she kisses harder than me._

 

Dean slid into the seat next to Sam, a little surprised to find him there waiting-like every time, beer in hand. He’d come here tonight only to twist the knife in his heart a little deeper, have a few drinks, and leave with a bad memory. Not to find Sam there having a beer, anxiously bouncing his leg as if Dean was the one that might not show up.

 

Sam had someone new in his life, a girl. A girl he seemed to be getting pretty serious with and while Dean had, had his fair share of one night stands in the beginning, before realizing they were all just poor substitutes for his brother, this hurt more than any one night stand Sam could ever have.

 

This was a girl that held possibility and possibility had never been good for Dean, not when it came to Sam. Possibility in the form of Stanford had cost him his brother, and possibility in the form of this girl could cost him the only thing he had left-late night visits.

 

“Hey,” Sam said brightly, tilting his mouth up in offering.

 

Dean smiled, letting his lips claim Sam’s. “Hey, baby,” he breathed. “Miss me?”

 

He watched Sam’s face light up at the endearment, remembering the way it had darkened at Dean’s pulling away the last time he was there. This was how he always wanted to see Sam, he never wanted to see that look when Dean had shrugged off Sam’s affections so carelessly. That wasn’t how he felt, and he never wanted Sam to think that again.

 

He brought his hand up to Sam’s mouth, tracing his lips like Dean had been dreaming about doing for the past two weeks. Sam nuzzled further into his hand, his leg sliding between Dean’s. He laughed softly, kissing Sam once more before settling back in his seat. Things were heating up a little too quickly for Dean’s taste right now. Especially considering where they were and the things he’d seen the last couple of days.

 

It wasn’t that Dean hadn’t expected Sam to move on, because he had. He’d never been able to believe in all the things Sam said when he had Sam’s dick in his mouth, or when Dean was inside him, filling Sam in the only way he could. There was always a voice in the back of his mind reminding him that Sam had walked away once before, what was to stop him from doing it a second time?

 

“So what’s she like?” he asked, feeling Sam slip away with the loss of touch. It was stupid and something Dean had never planned on doing. It broke every rule he’d ever placed on their relationship, but it was as inevitable as his visits. He needed to know, needed to hear about this girl from Sam.

 

Sam jerked and blinked at Dean, dumbfounded. “What?”

 

Dean’s mouth turned up in a bitter half smile at Sam’s surprise. Didn’t he know that Dean still looked after him? That just because he was gone in the mornings didn’t mean he was really gone? Dean was never really gone, he couldn’t be when it came to Sam. He was always worried about something happening to Sam, or losing him, like he was now.

 

“What’s she like?” he asked again, smiling encouragingly at Sam. If this was the end he wanted to be prepared. He wasn’t going to let this girl be the kind of surprise attack Stanford had been.

 

“Who?” Sam asked nervously.

 

Dean laughed, leaning forward until his nose brushed Sam’s throat, his lips instantly finding their way to Sam’s sweet spot. “Don’t play games with me, Sammy,” he warned. He knew Sam was trying to protect him, but it only hurt him more to have Sam hide things from him. Made it harder to let go and give Sam what he deserved.

 

“I’m not,” Sam protested weakly, his breathing stuttering as Dean’s tongue licked a wet stripe up his neck.

 

He moved his mouth to the sensitive skin behind Sam‘s ear. “Sammy,” he scolded softly. “I can smell her on you.” Shaking his head, Dean bit sharply at his neck. “I can taste her on you, too,” he added disgustedly.

 

He pulled away, taking a long pull off Sam’s beer as he tried to wash away her taste. It was bad enough Sam smelled like her, he had to show up here to see Dean covered in her too? Was this funny to him? Make Dean suffer a little more because he wouldn’t stick around like Sam was always asking him to?

 

“Dean,” Sam started, his voice full of explanations and excuses. Explanations and excuses that hadn’t stopped Dean’s heart from shattering the first time around.

 

“Forget it,” Dean said, silencing Sam’s words with a firm press of lips. When he was sure he couldn’t taste her on Sam, he deepened the kiss, slipping his hand into Sam’s shaggy hair and gripping tightly, as if that would keep Sam from leaving again. “She deserves you more than I ever could.”

 

xXx

 

_And I've always looked in through your glasses,_

_but all I could see, is the specter of me reflected,_

_the empty shell of me, the empty shell of me._

 

It wasn’t for another month that Dean saw Sam again-at least not anywhere Sam could see him. He almost hadn’t come at all, seeing as how close Sam and his new girl were getting. Spending more than a night at a time with her-which was more than Dean had ever spent with anyone other than Sam. 

 

He’d seen the way she looked at Sam, never daring to see if Sam was returning the same adoring eyes she laid on his younger brother. The same adoring eyes Sam used to have for him. That on top of his last visit, Dean wasn’t really sure why he was there-until he saw Sam waiting for him, desire washing over him

 

Sam was an addiction, he was under Dean’s skin and there was no turning away from that. New girl in his brother’s life or not.

 

Dean grinned, sneaking up on his brother and fitting Sam back against his chest before he could stop himself. His heart beating wildly against his ribcage, he pressed butterfly kisses down the back of Sam’s neck.

 

He should have been distancing himself from Sam, but he was too shocked to find Sam there to actually pull away. All he wanted was to pull Sam closer and refuse to let him go, give up this insane denial of the feelings he had for Sam and hope that as much as he didn’t deserve it, that he had Sam’s love as well.

 

Sam turned around, his own arms instantly winding around Dean‘s in an unusual show of affection for either. This was the kind of thing they did in Sam’s apartment, or in the cover of darkness in the parking lot. Never in the middle of the bar where anyone could see. Kisses and light touches were one thing, this was something much too personal.

 

He stared down at Dean, the same surprise Dean had felt at seeing Sam written clearly across his face. Dean forced a smirk, his heart beating double time. Last time had been rocky, Sam instantly becoming guarded and angry with Dean’s comment about his new girl, and just who deserved Sam. But Dean hadn’t let it go anywhere, had silenced Sam with rough kisses and gentle touches. Confusing Sam as much as himself.

 

Dean didn’t think he could stand to hear Sam’s reasons for the girl, or how he truly saw Dean. Where things were going, or what they were doing. He wanted Sam to make a decision in the easiest way for both of them-he either showed, or he didn’t.

 

He pressed his lips to the corner of Sam’s mouth on another impulse and slid his hand into Sam’s. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

Sam hesitated, unsure with Dean’s sudden affections as he was, but he couldn’t explain them to Sam anymore than he could to himself. All he knew was that he wanted Sam alone and naked, now. Wanted to make up for his last visit when Sam had opened his eyes and looked at Dean, like he didn’t care.

 

In the bedroom they weren’t Sam and Dean, they weren’t Winchesters, they weren’t brothers, and there was no confusion. Everything narrowed down to the way he felt for Sam. Pure and simple love that if he thought over, if he talked about became something else entirely. Became heartache and anger that made him lash out and hurt the one person he always wanted to protect.

 

“Not scared are you, baby?” Dean teased, cocking a brow.

 

A small smile spread across Sam’s face, his hesitance gone. “Never of you.”

 

Dean’s smirk faltered, Sam’s voice soft and caring, the complete opposite of the light tone Dean had tried to set. What else had he expected really? Sam had done everything short of pushing Dean off of him last time to get his feelings heard, a month wasn’t going to change a lifetime pattern. Sam tried hard to show Dean a different side of himself, but it was impossible to see anything other than he was less than Sam.

 

xXx

 

_What could you possibly love in me?_

_Is it the way I wear my smile?_

_It hangs from the tip of my tongue you see, oh this might take awhile._

 

The next time Dean came, Sam wasn’t waiting. Their usual seats stood empty in the crowded bar, college students milling around them as if they were some kind of mocking tribute to the Winchester brothers. Ill fated in family and ill fated in love, as it was beginning to prove.

 

It was only a matter of time, Dean knew. He’d seen even less of Sam around the campus, and when he had spotted his brother he was usually with Jess. Sam may not have been willing to give up the information, but there were plenty of kids around Stanford who had nothing better to do than run their mouths apparently. About his brother-and Jess.

 

Still, the last time he’d been there things had been…different. Everything about them had suddenly turned impossibly gentle, even Dean, who usually did his best to stay away from sappy, chick flick moments.

 

Sam had given Dean all of him, something Dean had thought he’d already had up until that point. They’d connected on a level Dean had never allowed before, so to come here now and find no Sam only proved everything he’d believed all along.

 

Dean was as replaceable as anything else in Sam’s life.

 

It was almost a relief to find himself there alone, though. At least there would be no more wondering, no more waiting for the bottom to drop out. It was over and done, with nothing but good memories and no regrets; except maybe one and it was one he’d always anticipated.

 

Shaking his head, bitter smile on his lips, he turned to go. Stumbling forward in his haste, he threw out an arm to catch himself, suddenly finding himself pressed against a warm, solid chest. An apology on Dean’s lips, he felt an arm wrap around his waist with all the familiarity in the world.

 

He jerked back instantly as he realized who he’d fallen into, the arm around his waist tightening to keep him from going far. Dean had just accepted the loss of his younger brother, he was far from ready to accept any of Sam’s affections.

 

“Dean,” Sam tried to reason with him. “Just let me explain.”

 

“There’s nothing to explain,” he snorted. Sam had made another decision, it happened all the time. Dean didn’t need reasoning to know that he had to accept Sam’s decision, no matter what.

 

“Yes,” Sam insisted. “There is. If you’d just listen to me for once.”

 

“Listen to you!” Dean cried incredulously. “That’s all I ever do, Sam! You just don’t know when to shu-”

 

Sam silenced him with a harsh kiss. “You’re the one that doesn’t know when to shut up,” he growled. “If for once you’d just listen.” He kissed Dean again, apparently through with the talk he’d just been urging Dean to listen to.

 

Convinced that Sam had only come out of pity, or loyalty to his older brother, Dean put his hands on Sam’s chest, giving him a firm shove that moved Sam less than half an inch. He twisted in Sam’s grip, trying to break free of the kiss.

 

Sam merely doubled his efforts, sliding a hand beneath Dean’s shirt and licking obscenely at his mouth until Dean finally gave up with a low groan. Leaning up and opening his mouth to the persistent tongue he loved so much.

 

He felt his knees begin to buckle, quickly sinking into Sam again. The fear of losing Sam gone with each swipe of tongue against his own. The soft brush of fingertips on his lower back sending an electric jolt up his spine.

 

This was wrong, he was trying to remind himself. Sam had someone else, Sam didn’t want him, along with a hundred other reasons why what they were doing was wrong. What Sam was doing was wrong. Dean had been on his way out, had accepted things. Sam was the one that couldn’t let it drop.

 

Gathering what little strength he had left, he shoved Sam back hard enough to make his brother stumble. “What about Jess?” he demanded.

 

Glancing around, he blushed furiously as he realized half the bar was staring at them, while the other took a few needed extra seconds to play catch up. Of all the things that had gone through his mind during that kiss, not once had he thought of the dozen or so people surrounding them.

 

Sam was always one for big displays, it figured he’d want to have this one out where everything had started in the first place. With a few too many drinks and too much honesty on Dean’s part. The best place to end, was in the beginning.

 

Sam’s brow furrowed as he tried to collect himself. “How did you-Never mind,” Sam started, shaking his head. “What about her?”

 

Dean glared. “Do you think I’m going to be your dirty little secret forever, Sam?” He could have Jess, that was fine with Dean, but Sam couldn’t have both. Dean wasn’t ever going to be that for Sam.

 

“You’ve never been that, Dean!” Sam roared. “That’s what I’ve been to you! So don’t,” Sam broke off with a growl and grabbed hold of Dean’s wrist, dragging him from the crowded bar.

 

“I’m not doing this.”

 

Once in the parking lot, Sam spun around and gripped Dean’s hips, bringing his brother flush with his body. “I’m not doing this,” Sam repeated. “Never again.”

 

“Doing what?” he asked irritably, pushing away from Sam. Who was he to put his hands on Dean after what the stunt he’d just pulled in the bar? They were fighting, not fucking.

 

“Playing these games with you,” Sam snapped. “I’ve done everything I can think of to get you to be straight with me, but you’re just so damn stubborn.”

 

Dean was beginning to lose his patience. Sam was the last person to be talking about stubbornness. If anything Sam was more like Dad, just as strong headed and stubborn than Dean had ever been.

 

“What are you talking about?” he demanded in frustration. He batted Sam’s hands away from his hips, refusing to let Sam win this one because he was to weak to resist his brother’s touch. Sam still had Jess, and kissing Dean in front of a bar full of people didn’t change that.

 

“I did things your way for three years,” Sam stalled.

 

Dean narrowed his eyes, taking a step back as Sam moved forward. “What are you saying, Sam?” The past three years hadn’t been done his way, because if they had he would have spent every damn night with Sam. There would have been no one else for him-ever.

 

“I thought maybe if I made you think I found somebody else, you’d realize that you want this as much as I do,” Sam admitted in defeat. His jaw in a stubborn set Dean had come to know so well over the years.

 

“What are you saying, Sam?” Dean repeated. He had a feeling where Sam was going with this, but he wanted to hear it from Sam. Every last thing, so that for once he could trust he wasn’t dreaming Sam and his words up.

 

Sam threw his hands up in exasperation. “Jess isn‘t my girlfriend,” he cried. “I was trying to get you to admit whether or not you wanted this.” He dropped his hands and took a step forward, moving closer but not touching Dean. “I was just sick of playing games. Never knowing where I stood with you. I had to know.”

 

Dean glanced down at his feet. That was fair. He‘d never given Sam much of anything to go by, always expecting Sam to be the one wanting an end. But why did Sam have to know where he stood with Dean? Why did he need to know where things were going? Sam had options-better ones.

 

Putting his heart out on the line for the first time since he’d admitted his feelings to Sam that first time, Dean murmured a quiet “Why?”

 

“I love you, Dean,” he sighed. “What else do you want me to say?”

 

Dean slowly lifted his gaze back to Sam’s. “What?” He knew what Sam had said, but he wanted to hear it again. To give Sam the chance to take it back.

 

“I love you,” Sam repeated. “It’s not like I haven’t told you that a thousand times, Dean.” He took a hesitant step forward, then another, until he had his hands back on Dean’s hips. “You just never believed me.”

 

Sam lowered his mouth to Dean’s, soft and hesitant like the first time. “I love you,” he said again.

 

Breaking the kiss, Dean rested his forehead against Sam’s, his hands covering the ones on his hips. “What could you possibly love in me?” Dean breathed in wonder against Sam’s lips.


End file.
